So he thanked Paul,
and walked along by his side. One object Paul had in inviting
him was, the fear that Tim Rafferty might take advantage of his
absence to renew his assault upon Phil, and with better success
than before.
"How old are you, Phil?" he asked.
"Twelve years."
"And who taught you to play?"
"No one. I heard the other boys play, and so I learned."
"Do you like it?"
"Sometimes; but I get tired of it."
"I don't wonder. I should think playing day after day might
tire you. What are you going to do when you become a man?"
Phil shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know," he said. "I think I'll go back to Italy."
"Have you any relations there?"
"I have a mother and two sisters."
"And a father?"
"Yes, a father."
"Why did they let you come away?"
"The padrone gave my father money."
"Don't you hear anything from home?"
"No, signore."
"I am not a signore," said Paul, smiling. "You may call me Paul.
Is that an Italian name?"
"Me call it Paolo."
"That sounds queer to me. What's James in Italian?"
"Giacomo."
"Then I have a little brother Giacomo."
"How old is he?"
"Eight years old."
"My sister Bettina is eight years.
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